Dragon's Tongue (The Demon Bound) by Underwood Laura J

Author:Underwood, Laura J [Underwood, Laura J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: Sky Warrior Book Publishing, LLC.
Published: 2011-11-09T07:00:00+00:00

THIRTY

“Fenelon, we’ve been all through the place from tower to cellar five times now,” Etienne said. “There’s nothing here.”

“I want to be sure,” Fenelon called back over his shoulder as he headed for the tower yet again.

“I might as well talk to the walls,” Etienne muttered and shook her head.

The last of the sun light had already faded, leaving mage light and torches as their only form of illumination. She had brought Tobin and Katriona back to assist on their second sweep because Fenelon thought more heads would be better. Others came of their own accord. Even Wendon and a couple of his friends arrived, eager to assist. They were now re-exploring the cellars, though Etienne suspected the three untapped barrels of ale she had noticed on an earlier visit as their true motive for choosing that dusty place.

Rumors about the motive for Alaric’s abduction ran wild through Dun Gealach. How the news had spread so fast was anyone’s guess. Shona knew better. Etienne could only conclude that someone in the infirmary—a guard or one of Mistress Miranda’s assistant healers—had overheard Fenelon’s rant and gossiped to others. It was a wonder to her Turlough had not chosen to add his presence to the fray. She had heard his remarks on how he believed Alaric’s involvement with demons was going to be proven any day now. What made him think that was beyond her comprehension.

“I wish you could talk to the walls,” Fenelon suddenly called down from above, startling her from her thoughts. “They could probably tell us what happened here.”

Etienne rolled her eyes. She passed Shona who sat on the stairs rubbing her feet, and followed Fenelon up into the tower once more.

He roamed about the center of the chamber by the time Etienne arrived. His arms crossed tightly over his chest, his shoulders hunched, and he rubbed his own chin. His “pose regardful,” as she called it, one he often took in moments of deep thought. He circled closely around the fallen lute, his gaze fixed on the instrument. The magic of his scry spell hummed on Etienne’s mage senses.

“He disappeared from here,” Fenelon said.

“We already know that,” Etienne said.

He looked up, perturbed. “I was thinking aloud,” he said.

“Beg pardon,” Etienne said, not hiding her own irritation. Times like this made her grateful their relationship had never gained any commitment deeper than the love they shared. Being wife to someone like Fenelon would have been more than her patience could bear. She took a deep breath to relax herself and stepped around the outer edge of the room, carefully regarding his demeanor. Her foot kicked a broken bit of wood and sent it skittering across the floor. Fenelon turned towards the sound.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Part of the broken psaltery,” she said.

“Psaltery,” he repeated, more for his own benefit. He suddenly charged across the chamber like a child in pursuit of a favorite toy. “Psaltery,” he said and snatched up one of the fragments, dangling wire strings like spider legs.

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